


a soft invitation to madness

by Adarian



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-04 00:34:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12759453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adarian/pseuds/Adarian
Summary: Sten grows more and more irritated with the Warden, feeling as if all of her decisions are poorly made and that her teasing of him has grown to far. This frustration is tied with unwanted feelings of lust and desire. At Haven, this comes to a head when Sten snaps and acts on his feelings, not realizing that all his grievances might just stem from a very simple explanation.Written for a kink-meme prompt





	a soft invitation to madness

In the near three feet of snow, the Warden Tabris was having great difficulty in trudging down the path. She kept her head up and a determined look lined her face. Alistair had already offered once for her to sit on his shoulders but the Warden scoffed at him and told him in no uncertain terms that his concern was unnecessary and that the Maker had "given her thunder thighs for a reason."

Sten traversed the snow easiest, despite his natural hatred of the substance. Yet he hung back as he generally preferred to cover the rear of the party. It also had the benefit of allowing him to truly partake in Tabris' unnecessary suffering. It would be undignified for a soldier to be carried from this battle with the elements but any Qunari warrior would concede that duty was more important than pride. Either Tabris would learn a valuable lesson about her own limitations or he could enjoy teasing her as Alistair rescued her from a snow bank.

Perhaps Sten could have been expected to offer his assistance but the thought of her legs wrapped around his head was...was not ideal for his own mental wellbeing. 

Tabris finally requested the others go forth to set up camp while she surveyed the area. It was unlikely that anyone believed her excuse but they went ahead regardless. Once they were out of earshot, Tabris collapsed into the snow with a gasp. Sten quickly knelt beside her to check her pulse, only to have a compacted ball of the substance thrown into his face.

He growled as he wiped it away and glared down at Tabris, now lying on her back and laughing. It would be so easy to pin her right then, to push her chin up and force her eyes to match his. He wanted to see her surrender, he wanted to see that glimpse of submission in her gaze before he -

Sten realized he was kneeling above her, his body near cradling hers against the elements. Her laugh had faded but her coy smile remained.

"Sorry," she apologized. "I couldn't resist. It was the only thing getting me through the last hour or so. Help me up?"

He thought about leaving her there but he rose and offered his hand. She took it, surprising him once again with the smallness of her body. He knew cognitively that Tabris was quite tall and broad for an elf, bigger than many of the elven men he had served beside in Seheron. Perhaps it was because she was female she seemed so delicate, but she fooled enough men on the battlefield. It appeared that only he noticed the gentleness in her touch, her weakness. 

Once she was on her feet again, she brushed off her clothes. He did the same, trying to subtly check that his body was behaving as it should. All was in order. 

"We should assist the others at camp," he said.

"You go ahead," she replied. "I want to look at the map a bit more and that's easier to do when it's quiet."

"If I leave you here, you will not be able to arrive at camp for hours," he pointed out. "I will not leave you to die in the snow."

"Well, how thoughtful of you."

"I do not wish the others to think that I harmed you. It would be inconvenient for my mission and difficult to explain to the Arishok."

Tabris rolled her eyes. "Of course. So what, you going to carry me bridal style, sling me over your shoulder, or make me ride your shoulders like I'm six?" 

Sten frowned. "What is 'bridal style'?"

Tabris offered innocently, "I can show you. To help better your knowledge, of course."

Sten shrugged. "As you wish."

Tabris climbed onto an exposed tree stump and threw herself at him. Sten immediately caught her, instinctively scooping one arm under her legs and the other around her waist. She put her arms around his neck, so close that if his skin were bare she would be practically kissing it. Their eyes met and his heart skipped a beat. 

Sten cleared his throat. "I see. It is not conducive to protecting the injured companion while carrying them and I imagine most would quickly grow tired of your weight."

Tabris teased, "I wouldn't worry about it. Usually by that point your woman's already on her back with her legs in the air."

He dropped her back into the snow and she giggled, a foolishly flirty laugh that he had heard only a few times. It was infuriatingly feminine. 

Sten turned his back to her. "I will meditate for a time then. You consult your maps. By the time you have made your decision, I imagine the snow will melt, I will have died of old age, and you will have no need of my assistance."

"This is big talk coming from the guy who once took twenty minutes deciding if he wanted five cookies or six." 

"I was determining whether or not the difference in savings was worth the moral implications of consuming too many resources," he pointed out. "I made a wise decision considering the circumstances."  
"Buying a whole dozen?"

"Pashara," he muttered. "Go study your map."

He sat down on the tree stump and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore Tabris rooting through her satchel. Eventually the sound abated but his body still pulsed with heat, reliving her beneath him. A few tugs of clothes and he could have been inside of her. They were so close to camp, the others would have heard them. Sten wanted them to hear. He wanted the entire mountain to know that the endlessly mocking and consistently irritating Warden was beneath him. He wanted no secret of this. His pleasure, his demands of her body, all were public and proudly displayed. They would hear him as he cursed her, praised her, pounded into her so ruthlessly his skin would slap against hers. He didn't want her to scream his name. He wanted her to be gasping, breathless, unable to speak but to beg with desperate pants and whines. Her pleasure was only for him.

Sten pushed aside the thought, which as usual had quickly gotten away from him. He reminded himself once again that what he was feeling was not desire. 

Sten had seen it a dozen times in the trenches of Seheron. A low ranking soldier grew impatient, grew disobedient. It would start to affect the others, this doubt, this unwieldy energy that threatened to detonate and destroy the order. A good commanding officer would see this and take this restless soldier into his own bed. He would be dominated, broken down, and made anew with reminded purpose and strength. It was a gift only offered to those with promise and accepted only by those who knew it would sooth their spirit. It was not about desire. It was about restoring order. 

That is what Sten reminded himself when Tabris teased him, mocked him, and led their fellowship towards unwise ends. He grew aroused not from any sense of need of her but from his own sense of leadership. If he were her commanding officer and she were a true warrior, he would have long ago diffused her instead of letting a time bomb continue to tick. 

But Tabris was no warrior. She was a woman and not even a Qunari woman, who might nobly take arms if defending the lives of her people. Tabris accepted this unassigned role as easily as she breathed but she did not take it with the gravity it deserved. He could not understand her motivations when she could be so selfish and yet so giving. Strangers she had never met she would clothe and feed and defend with her life. Then she would just as easily steal from others. She would speak gently to some and openly mock others. Her sense of morality guided her but it was based in her own whims and feelings, not from any sense of deeper purpose or meaning. She was...she was unusual and she was dangerous. 

"You still with me, Sten?"

The Qunari turned to see Tabris now standing on a snow-covered log, attempting to read the map in the remaining light of day. She glanced back up and him and gave the shameless little smirk of hers, as if she knew what he was thinking. 

"What were you day dreaming about?" She asked. "Anything fun?"

Perhaps she did know what haunted him and sought to further provoke him. 

"I was strategizing, not day dreaming," he retorted.

"Maybe you can help me out here then," she said. "I've been looking at this thing for a good ten minutes and I still can't figure out if it's better to keep going to Haven or turn east and head towards Orzammar. It doesn't make sense to keep running over the same ground but I'm bad at math. What do you think is the most time efficient way of doing this?" 

"It does not make sense to go this way at all," Sten insisted. "The Blight is south and we keep fleeing it."

"I don't like this anymore than you do," she reminded, rolling the map back up. "I'd rather go track that dragon down myself but I'm told that I can't do that. We need an army and we need Loghain to stop trying to kill us."

"Then you should strike your enemy directly before he has another chance."

"He nearly managed to kill us with Zevran, Sten. _Zevran_. I'm not risking Ferelden because Alistair and I suddenly thought we would be perfect assassins. Then there's all that political bullshit afterwards and I need soldiers to fight this dragon, not for every noble to think they're going to get murdered in their sleep if I don't like the look of them."

"Then this Landsmeet is not worthy of its country if it cannot see what is so obviously needed to protect it." 

She sighed. "Sten, we have had this conversation what, six times? I don't have a choice. Once Eamon's back awake he can deal with all this political bullshit."

He retorted, "There is always a choice."

"Says the man who has his entire life prescribed to him," she pointed out, jumping off the log and walking towards him. "You really want to lecture me about choice?" 

He argued, "My role was given to me to serve my people. I choose within it and live within its precepts. You are...you are a wild fox who claims to be free while circling her own cage. You are a bird who thinks it can swim. You claim that you can move mountains just because you wish it. I know what I am, Warden, and I know what you are. You...you are a fraud." 

Her calm demeanor slipped for a second and he felt oddly guilty. She had asked for his advice and he had insulted her. He did not have long to feel this way as she quickly went on the offensive herself.

As cold as the ice in the air, Tabris said, "I have never claimed to be anything other than what I am, Sten. I have never lied to you. I have never misled you."

"I have heard you lie many times, Warden."

"But not to you," she snapped, her tone growing harsher. "I have never lied to you and I never will. You chose to serve beside me. You choose that every damn day. Don't give me any bull about your moral superiority. I was given this role and I choose within it to the best I can, just like you claim to do. But the fact you're following me shows that you're just as lost as the rest of us."

He felt the same stirring in his gut and shame washed through him. He had picked this fight. He had driven her to anger for some sick sense of satisfaction. It was not about desire, even if his body ached for her. It was disdain disguising itself as a biological imperative. That was all. 

If she noticed the flush in his cheeks, she said nothing. She simply mistook his silence for a concession and walked towards camp, once again struggling through the snow. He watched her go, seeing her body shift beneath her armour. Her soft curves had no place under hardened leather. Her hips were not meant to be covered in harsh metal scales. How could she not see it? How could she delude herself so? She was meant for gentler days, for a warm homestead and hearty meals. She was meant for dancing and laughter and she abandoned all of these deserved comforts for a life that was not hers. It was not that a woman could not be strong or fierce. He saw the perseverance of his female counterparts in Seheron. He saw the endurance of their souls and even the physical strength and grace of their bodies. But they were not meant to be soldiers. It was a burden meant only for those who had no skills but to fight. It was meant for those bodies who were designed to take damage, to be broken again and again until their lives were given to the Qun. They were the ones chosen to be disposable. 

How could she not see that was not meant to be her fate? How could she not see that she was no warrior? How could she not see that she had been given a gift? 

He returned to the campsite but refused to sit by the fire with the rest. He went to his own tent and tried to meditate, willing his body to return to equilibrium. It was not wise to rile himself for his own satisfaction. He had lost his mind, lost his soul, and it had nearly destroyed him. If he let his anger confuse itself as lust, he would slide back into the animal that had been locked in that cage. He had to be better. He had to be wiser. He could not think of her. He could not want her.

As much as he hated to admit it, what she said was true. She had never lied to him.

Once he managed to regain control, he went back outside. The air was bitingly cold so he reluctantly sat at the fire, grateful for the bowl of foul stew placed in his hands. In Seheron one ate with bread and their fingers but they had no bread and their fingers were too stiff to do more than hold a spoon. He ate quietly, attempting to ignore Tabris chatting with Leliana. The two women giggled behind their gloves, occasionally glancing over at the various men in their party. He scarfed down the last of his food and went back to his tent. He stripped out of his clothes and went into his bedroll, grateful for some semblance of warmth.

He closed his eyes, grateful for the moment of peace. His erection was softening again and he felt as if his chest loosened. It was time for both his body and mind to rest. He would need his strength if he were to continue to fight his conflicting thoughts. He could rationalize his reactions as much as he wished but they did not matter. He could not act on it, even if his intentions were righteous. To touch her as he needed to meant destroying whatever fledging of friendship existed between them. He was alone in Ferelden and it was likely he could never return home. He could not hurt her. He could not live with himself if he hurt her. 

He was beginning to drift off when he heard, "Sten, are you asleep?"

The Qunari groaned into his pillow. "Leave me in peace, Warden. I am unwell."

Tabris opened the flap of his tent and peered in. "You do look a little flush. Was it something you ate? Do you need a better winter coat?"

"I need you to go away," he insisted. "I do not require your presence."

She entered now, closing the flap behind her. "If you're sick, you need to tell me. It'll be a dozen miles in rough terrain tomorrow before we get to Haven. We can wait a few days if you need to rest though." 

Sten sat up and demanded, "You choose the nobleman over the dwarves? They have known the darkspawn for millennia and would be a greater benefit to our cause."

"I thought they were both terrible decisions and we should be moving back south," she reminded. "Would you have suddenly been Eamon's biggest fan if we started heading towards Orzammar?"

She used every word he ever said against him. He missed when he had been wise enough to only give yes or no answers. 

Sten ignored the jab. "We are supposed to be fighting the Blight and you still insist on this foolish path?"

She glanced briefly down at his chest. "And you still insist on sleeping naked when it's a dozen degrees below zero? Aren't you cold?" 

He half growled, "If you do not leave now, I will show you how hot my blood is, Warden, and you will not enjoy the experience."

Tabris bent down and tipped Sten's chin up so their eyes met. 

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," she murmured. 

Sten could not help but imagine what could happen next. He'd pin her down and rip off her trousers. He'd push her face into the ground and thrust into her. He'd pound into her until she screamed, crying with pleasure, breaking down until they were as they were meant to be. A beautiful woman driven to ecstasy while her warrior found his own release. They would revel in his strength and power until they were sated. He would claim her and all would be as it should be. He was meant to be with her.

It was if he had been hit with cold water and the fantasy faded. No, he reminded himself. It was not about desire. It was not about anything other than balance. He was there on the orders of the Arishok, not to follow her to the ends of the earth. This was...this was a test and he was failing it badly.

"Get out," he said, his voice softening.

Tabris didn't say another word and left without pining the tent closed. Sten groaned, trying to remain in his bedroll while closing it. The cold was bitter enough. He did not need to give the Warden the satisfaction of flashing his cock to the entire camp. 

***

The next morning they broke camp and followed the trail deeper into the mountains. The snow was less heavy and Tabris walked ahead with Alistair, the two at times in deep conversation.

When they reached the village, Tabris hung back and indicated to Sten that he should wait with her. He did so, trying to ignore Alistair arguing with a guard up ahead. The boy had strength of body but he was not particularly gifted in charisma.

Tabris apologized, "I feel like I was really on your case yesterday. I know you're not feeling great and I should have just left you be."

Sten merely nodded. Tabris waited for him to speak but eventually grew impatient.

"Anything you want to say, Sten, while we're clearing the air here?"

Sten had a great many things he wished to say to her. He was sorry, yes, and he did trust her. He trusted her with his life. She was no fraud and she was doing well as their leader, despite her obvious disadvantages. But to admit these things aloud could lead to much more dangerous confessions and these he could not allow.

He bowed his head. "Not at this time."

Tabris groaned, "Come on, Sten. You're really not sorry for everything you said yesterday? You were being a real asshole. Let's just shake hands and forget it happened, okay? I need to know we've got each other's back."

She offered her hand but he could not risk touching her. He knew she would not let it go and conceded to murmuring a quiet, "I will protect your flank, as I always have."

She tried to speak again but he left her side, climbing up the last steps into the village. His skin bristled as he replayed her words in his head. She wanted him to be soft, to be a fragile little bas who cried about his feelings. She wanted him broken and he refused to break. He was Qunari and he would not be tainted by her weakness or her vulnerability. 

Despite this, he found himself at her side once again. It was where he belonged. To stop her from making too grave an error, of course. 

***

The ruined temple sang quietly with unrestrained and bloodied magic. This was no holy place. This was a place of death. When he said this to Tabris, she only nodded but she kept walking. 

Sten unsheathed Asala and kept her close to him. Tabris noted his caution with another quick nod and untied her shield. It was her latest piece of armour, the only equipment he had ever seen her spend money on. It was simple in design but hard as dragon scale. He had seen her break down many a door just by throwing herself into it. It was...impressive. As a feat of engineering.

Tabris kept her shield low but shifted to Sten's left side, the side less protected when he wielded Asala. They exchanged a glance but Sten said nothing. 

The cultists attacked and their party broke, going down different halls and passageways in order to lure the villains out. Sten stayed by Tabris as they worked their way through a dorm, destroying the fiends before they could lay a finger on either of them. Tabris had grown strong with her shield and her blade, now even rivaling the long trained Alistair. Her offensive capabilities were near flawless but she still needed to work on her defensive skills. Sten considered letting her take a few jabs to her side as a reminder but he covered her, as he always did. She could not take the same beatings as he could and he had promised to never let her come to harm. Even if that meant her training suffered.

When the dorm was cleared, Tabris began looting through the dead cultists' belongings. Sten found this distasteful and instead watched the door, ensuring that no one else could enter. 

What he should have considered was that there was someone still who could exit.

Sten turned around too late to see a mage place his hand on his chest. A bolt of lightning shot through him and he collapsed, gasping. The mage raised a dagger, chanting as he prepared to stab it into Sten's heart. The Qunari tried to push him away but found he could not move his arms. Fear flooded through him and he looked towards where Tabris had been, pleading that she was safe.

The mage stopped chanting and fell on to Sten, blood seeping from his robes. Tabris threw him off before removing Fang and wiping it on the dead man's clothes. She knelt by Sten and rummaged through her bag. She found a potion and lifted his head just enough so he could drink it. She did not speak but he could see the fear in her eyes. His guilt mixed with his relief. He had failed her but she was alive. 

The paralysis faded and he managed to sit up, Tabris supporting his back with her hand. He rose to his feet, pulling away from her. She stood and put her hand where his armour had been burned through. He pushed her hand away. 

She scowled. "Are you mad now that I saved your life?"

"If you had been more thorough you would have realized one was still alive," he barked. "A true warrior would have finished the job before looking for trash to sell."

"You didn't see him either," Tabris reminded angrily. "What does that make you?"

"A fool for believing that you were at all capable," he snapped. "Do I need to guard you like a child while you look for shiny things?"

She growled, "Back down, Sten."

They were less than a pace from each other and looked up at him defiantly, every inch of her stare reminding him that she was an Alienage miscreant who would not an insult go unpunished. If he did not care for her as he did, if he did not know her as well as he did, he would have been afraid.

Instead every part of him grew hot, his loins stirring with need. His cock grew heavy for her and lust took over his mind. 

He pushed her to the ground, cursing their leather armour and layers of winter clothing. He knelt above her and she caught her breath, waiting for him to strike. She looked at him with almost tenderness and he hated the way his heart caught in his throat. He wanted to kiss her almost as much as he wanted to mate her. He wanted to capture her mouth with his and wipe that smile from her lips.

Her words were strained, as if she were attempting not to pant. "You know there are beds just right over there, Sten. If you're going to go all primal cave man on me, you might as well go those extra few feet so we don't ice our asses off."

It took all of his strength to rise to his feet and help her to hers. Their eyes met and he was unsure what she thought of him in that moment. He was too embarrassed to ask, ashamed that his self-control had nearly snapped in two. 

Tabris left the dorm, shivering. He followed behind her, his head lowered. His body still throbbed with need of her, but his mind was strong enough now to keep it in check. He was a fool, an utter fool, and he hated himself for it. He hated that he had considered her obvious jab. He would have taken her in a dead man's bed, both of them half frozen and battle worn. She was mocking but his lust was so strong it had been lost on him. 

They rejoined the others and Sten avoided her, preferring even Wynne's lecture on the architecture to being left with his thoughts. Even now, he was tempted to storm over to Tabris, rip her clothes off, and have her against one of those ancient pillars or on one of their so-called sacred altars. As long he was inside of her, as long as her hot breath was against his skin, her breasts cupped in his hands. 

He readjusted his winter gear, ensuring his erection was covered. Tabris looked back at him, that unreadable expression in her eyes, and shame flooded through him. He should not have acted as he did.

He meant to speak to her but there was not another moment of peace. They were attacked in waves, their leader nearly slaying them for their refusal to aid him. Sten fought by her side as he always did, exposing himself to more injury than he normally would, swearing that they would not even so much as bruise her skin.

The Gauntlet cooled his blood, refocusing on the mission ahead, no matter how absurd and ridiculous it was. To travel through memory was to acknowledge who he had been when Tabris had found him. To relive through his crimes was to remember that it was her that had brought him back to grace, not the Qun. She had returned his soul to him, had made him worthy of living again. That shame echoed through him. It was not duty to the Qun that had stroked this desperate need to copulate with her though he refused to name what it truly was. 

To enter the final chamber, their party had to discard all worldly possessions and cleanse their bodies by walking naked through the sacred flames. Sten waited last, letting the others undress and pass before him. He postponed until only he and the Warden remained. She stood in her shift, her muscled brown legs bare, her nipples hard through the thin fabric. Once he was down to his smallclothes, he went to her side. She placed her hand on his chest and this time he did not stop her. His cock throbbed through his thin breeches, demanding to be pressed against her skin.

"I don't think the True Believers up there would appreciate you approaching the Urn with a massive hard-on," she commented. "You need help with that?" 

He said as evenly as he could, "I will remain behind then until I regain my senses."

"I don't think I would feel great leaving you to jerk off in a holy place," Tabris replied. "Maybe if you pray hard enough maybe Andraste will suck you off." 

Her crudeness stroked the flames of his need. How could he be attracted to such a woman? An anomaly. A heathen. Everything that he had been taught should not be. She was smirking. Was she toying with him? Mocking him?

She lifted her shift over her head, showing her scarred and soft body. Her breasts were pink and brown and looked more succulent than any fruit he had tasted. Her thighs met in a dark tangle of hair and her hips were streaked with faint silver lines. The sight of her naked before him surprisingly cooled his desperation. It was enough to look upon her, to admire every piece that made her beautiful form. 

She stepped through the flames and left him alone. Despite the ease in his lust, his cock remained just as hard and pained. He stepped out of his small clothes, his body reacting to the coolness of the air. The fire called to him but he waited, thinking of drudgework to ease his loins. After a few minutes of reflecting on peeling potatoes, he was settled enough that he could join his companions without too much staring. 

When he crossed the fiery threshold, he found most of his companions were now dressed in thin white robes, presumably conjured by the spirit. Sten did not dress, seeing that the flames were now abating and their clothing soon accessible. He looked ahead to see Tabris sewing a small bundle together, presumably the ashes of the heathens' dead saint. She turned back to see their companions, holding the satchel as if it were a coin purse. She handed it off to Leilana and the Andrastians circled around her, talking in soft whispers.

Tabris walked back over the threshold, glancing down Sten's naked form as she passed him. Her hand brushed against his and he stiffened. He leaned down to tell her to leave him alone but she was already at her pack and dressing. Sten followed her lead and relaced himself into his armour. When all were ready, they began their descent down into the village. 

They heard the dragon overhead and all looked up to see her. Tabris grinned. 

"I can see why they thought she was a god," she said. "She's beautiful."

Sten agreed, "She is, though she is too dangerous to allow to live."

Tabris shrugged. "That's a problem for us to deal with another day. Or preferably for someone else entirely to handle. I agreed to fight one dragon. I'm not getting us fried doing a trial run."

"That is a shame," Sten replied. "In Seheron it is considered a great honor to slay a dragon. It would have been a glorious battle."

"You stick with me and you'll get your chance soon enough," she teased. "Well, me or Alistair have to do the actual killing part. You'll get credit for the assist though. I'm sure that will get you points with the Arishok."

"You do not take the threat of the Archdemon seriously," Sten accused. "This is the power of the creature without the corruption of the Blight. If you are afraid to fight it now, will you have courage to face your true enemy?" 

Still gazing up at the creature, Tabris replied softly, "I'm scared every day, Sten. I'll keep on being scared and I'll keep going. I'm never going to be brave, but I'm just going to do it anyways because I have to. You can run towards death or you can turn it into a fighting chance to live."

She turned back to look at him. "Can you follow a coward?"

Sten replied quietly, "You are no coward, kadan."

She laughed. "And here I thought we were never going to lie to each other. Tell me what you're really thinking right now."

Sten shook his head. "That is not wise for me to do so."

"I'm not going to bite your head off," she promised.

"I am not afraid of your wrath," he replied.

"Then what are you afraid of?" She asked, cocking her head.

"I am Qunari. I am never afraid."

She teased, "Liar. Come on. I was vulnerable with you, now you've got to do the same. It's like Truth or Dare, except you're not allowed to choose Dare."

He gave her a gentle shove. "Pashara. It has been a long day." 

"Yes," she said sweetly, "a long, _hard_ day. You've spent the whole day drawn tight like a long bow. Maybe when we get back, maybe you should finally shoot that arrow off. I'm told it's not healthy for a man to be so...tense."

He muttered, "If there is something you are implying, then you need not be so coy."

Tabris leaned in close and whispered in his ear, "Stop picking fights with me to get all hot and bothered if you're not even going to do anything about it. You're just going to hurt yourself and piss me off. I'll even argue with you while you're at it, just stop pushing me when I don't need it."

"It was an involuntary reaction," he lied. "It will not happen again."

"No?" She asked, giving a brief flutter of her eyelashes. 

Sten insisted, "No."

The mabari barked for Tabris and the elf smirked at him before chasing after the dog. Sten caught his breath, thankful for the creature's distraction. 

It was already dark when they returned to camp and their remaining companions had just finished their evening meal. Sten retreated back into the woods, finding a quiet place. He stroked himself with little ceremony, biting his hand to prevent from crying out. But within a few moments, he knew it would not be enough. Even if he found release now, his torment would only begin again. She was the origin of the problem, not him. It was only with her a solution could be found. 

Tabris was at the fire, mid conversation with Alistair. 

Sten sat beside her and hissed in her ear, "Come with me. Now."

She chuckled quietly. "I hope you're still that bossy with your clothes off."

"Now, kadan," he insisted.

She looked up at him so falsely sweet and said, "I'm busy right now, Sten."

"You infuriating bas," he growled, "you have provoked me enough. Either you come with me or I will mate with you right here."

Her eyes widened but not with fear. "Make me." 

He picked her up and carried her 'bridal style' to his tent. Sten put her down long enough to unlace his trousers. Tabris pegged the flap of the tent shut before turning back to stare openly at his now freed cock. 

She started to say something but he pushed her down into the blankets. He kissed her hungrily, desperate for the taste of her. He fumbled with her trousers before finally tearing them off. He buried his face between her legs, licking and sucking as she struggled to shed the rest of her clothes. The moment she was naked, he flipped her onto her belly and brought her hips to his. He pushed in, only managing to get the tip of his cock into her. She shivered and spread her legs more, letting him open her with the head of his cock. She whimpered into her hand, sighing as the bulb finally slipped fully inside of her. 

Sten gripped her hips and thrust deeper and deeper, her body enveloping him, squeezing and stroking until his stones were flush to her skin. She was full, stuffed with him, pinned beneath him and already rocking against him. He groaned, her little body trying to ride his. 

He pounded into her, overpowering her attempts to lead. She cried out, her whole body shaking around him. He felt her hand slip between them but he shoved it away. He replaced her fingers with his, stroking her clit, dipping his fingers lower to feel her nectar dripping down them. She arched her back, pressing her body into his. He stroked her harder, his thrusts rough and rapid. She clenched around him, her breath turning to low aching moans. 

Tabris had been near silent but she cursed then loudly. Her legs shook underneath his and she fell forward onto her arms. He stilled his hips and she groaned, "I'm okay, keep going." 

He withdrew and rolled her onto her back. He entered her again, slower, looking deep into her eyes. She kissed him tenderly, cupping his face in her hands. He cradled her in his arm, the other steadying them as he picked up speed.

His belly grew tight and he slowed to withdraw but she wrapped her thighs around him. He stilled and he pressed his forehead against hers. Their eyes met and he kissed her greedily. His thrusts grew erratic and his grunts grew louder. She winced beneath him, too sensitive, too sore, but she clung to him. He held her just as fiercely, burying his face in her hair. 

His knees buckled as he reached his climax. He slammed into her, spurting his seed as he rode through his pleasure. He unraveled, thrusting again and again until he grew soft. Tabris put a hand on his chest before kissing him again, gently nudging him to let her move. 

He reluctantly withdrew, allowing Tabris to shakily sit up. She panted, trying to catch her breath. Sten sat in front of her, brushing her hair from her face. She smiled and something shifted in his heart. Now that his need of her had been sated, whatever biological urge filled, his heart was cleared of lust and his mind of frustration. Now what flowed through him was simple but what had been hiding behind all other things. Everything he had felt had formed protectively to mask one terrifying truth.

He loved her.

**Author's Note:**

> I blatantly stole the title from searching "quotes on crazy love" and goodreads suggesting a quote from a erotic novel to me. I have no shame.


End file.
